From what I've seen of suburban New Jersey, there are basically two things to do  drink and drive. Which is no problem, figure the three dim bulbs in "Calling Bobcat," because you can imbibe all you want as long as you load up on olive oil first.

"It's true," insists one of the fellas. "Before a heavy night of drinking you drink the olive oil and it kinda coats your stomach. Didn't you ever see the commercials for Pepto-Bismol?"

"That's ridiculous. Who told you that?"

"I don't know, I saw it in some movie."

"What movie?"

"Some movie. The one with that guy."

I'm telling you right now, don't try the olive-oil trick. At least, it doesn't work out in a gastronomically acceptable fashion for this trio on the night in question.

"That guy" in that movie, by the way, is Bobcat Goldthwait, who will become a source of obsession with the three gentlemen during a night of petty larceny, teen partying, romantic ineptitude and drying out in the Bound Brook town lockup. It all adds up to a low-budget effort that's modest in ambition but hits plenty of high notes and has a clever, sometimes understated sense of humor.